Hope, Maybe
by Christine Leigh
Summary: The events of a day one year after William was given up for adoption.


TITLE: Hope, Maybe  
AUTHOR: Christine Leigh  
RATING: PG  
CATEGORY: Vignette, Angst  
SPOILERS: William.

SUMMARY: The events of a day one year after William was given up for adoption.

DISCLAIMER: All characters are the products of Chris Carter. They also belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. No copyright infringement intended.

ARCHIVING: If you would like to archive anywhere, I'd appreciate a quick note first.

Hope, Maybe  
by Christine Leigh

They are next. Mulder takes Scully's hand and squeezes it, and when he starts to let go, she doesn't let him. He feels her apprehension, but then catches her eye and gives her a small smile. He wants to do this. It's logical and it's right and yet, still, they are both feeling somewhat strange at this point in their lives in taking this step. They'd been together in one way or another for so many years, and neither, if they were to be honest, for most of that time had ever felt this step necessary. Of course, things change, and inevitably so when a child enters the picture, so now they're here. It's simple really, and yet it's scary. A funny word to use in light of the events of the last few years, but there it is. It's scary. He loves her to death, though, and that's all that matters. This is the right thing to do.

Scully knows it's odd to be here today, but she's glad that they are, even if she is slightly nervous. She looks down at the nosegay that Mulder had surprised her with before they left to come here. It is made of lavender roses and forget-me-nots and seeing it had moved her to tears. He'd never given her flowers before, but somehow she feels that this is so like him to do this. Or at least would have been in that life she used to imagine for them many roads ago. He'd wanted to give her something today he'd said, when handing her the box. She'd told him that he'd given her the two most precious things already, but then had cried upon seeing the pretty little bouquet. She loves him like crazy. That's right. Total, complete, shouldn't-make- sense-but-does, crazy. They rise and enter the judge's chamber.

Ten minutes later, and it's a done deal. There was nothing fancy about the ceremony, just the simple exchanging of words and bands. Scully wishes she could tell her mother. She would be so happy, and yes, relieved. Mulder, too, wishes that his parents were alive and able to know that he'd surmounted the horrific details of his past to arrive at this place in life with this woman next to him. He wants to believe that they would be happy for him. He whispers in Scully's ear as they walk along the corridor to the building's exit about the best part of the day that is yet to come. She smiles and even blushes a little, and anyone seeing them would never guess that the honeymoon has been underway a good three years already. What a pair.

They lie in each other's arms in the dark of the bedroom, their bodies and minds exhausted. If it isn't for one thing, Scully thinks she probably could sleep for the next two days. Mulder has been fading in and out for a few minutes, and his eyes are closed right now. But she needs to mark this moment on this day. She isn't sure what she will do, though, and so remains motionless in the arms that have carried her for so long.

One year ago her heart had shattered and today was a step toward rebuilding it - toward rebuilding them. They don't yet know how they will get William back, but they will. They have to keep believing that; there aren't any other options. So, today they had made a down payment on the hope they required to keep on believing. They'd been perfectly honest with each other on all matters pertaining to today, and both had acknowledged that if not for the little boy, who, each day he was gone took up a bigger space in their hearts, they probably would not have chosen to marry. But now that they have, and even without anyone to tell or to toss a bouquet or garter to, they are behaving quite conventionally, and have dared to be happy in the face of their impossible lives. Most important of all, though, they are one step closer in readying themselves for the life that one day will include their son.

It had been a warmish day but the night will be cool, and Scully gets up and crosses to the window, opening it wide. There is a breeze, and she wants to feel it. She closes her eyes and just stands there feeling and listening to the night. She is naked and the air on her skin feels wonderful. The sound of Mulder's soft breathing mingles with the other sensations that are washing over her, and soon she is going inside herself. She needs to hear her little boy tonight and believes that she will if she just tries hard enough. It takes a few minutes, but then he's there, and laughing his sweet, special William laugh, and trying to sing, or at least that's what she thinks it is. Yes, that's it. They'd only just started to do that together, mostly in the car, right before. She should cry, but that isn't happening, so she just listens. He's still laughing, but it's softer now. Another minute and she won't hear him anymore, but how delightful it is while it lasts. She thinks that perhaps next year she will hold him in her arms.

He is gone now.

Scully then opens her eyes and her gaze wanders to her flowers that are sitting on the dresser. She'd meant to put them in water when they'd returned home, but had been otherwise consumed. She removes a sprig of a forget-me-not from the nosegay and carefully pulls its tiny blossoms apart. She then drops them onto her upturned palm, extending it out the window and watches the little blue petals blow away on the breeze.

She is being dangerously sentimental tonight, she knows, but there is nothing to be done but to go with it. Wherever he is, she believes that William knows they haven't forgotten him. Tomorrow and the next day, and the next, it may be very difficult to believe this, but she will hang on. And when she can't, she will go to Mulder. The only thing that could possibly make any of this worse would be to go through it without him. She isn't sure that she would have survived alone. She goes to the bed and kneels by her husband who is now in a deep slumber. His brow, so often furrowed by day is smooth as glass, and she brushes a finger across it.

Hope, maybe. Love, certainly.

- end -


End file.
